


A Good Day Fer It

by SueN



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:38:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SueN/pseuds/SueN
Summary: Written for a VinList 1 Hour Fic Challenge.Vin goes missing and Chris gets mad.





	A Good Day Fer It

Striding down the street towards the saloon,  Chris stepped off the boardwalk to cross the mouth of the alley, and threw a glance at a familiar sight, except it wasn’t there ... the alley was empty apart from two wooden boxes, an old barrel … and a set of wheel ruts in the dust.

Chris’ throat was suddenly dry, his heart hammering in his chest.  Ridiculous as it was, he took a look at his surroundings, checking that he was looking at the right alley, that he hadn’t somehow lost his bearings and got turned around.  A cold fear gripped him, and he was momentarily frozen in place, robbed of the ability to think or act.

Finally, his instinct kicked in and he shook himself from his reverie.  Moving forward on leaden legs, he crouched down beside the barrel and studied the ground.  There were no signs of a struggle, just one set of boot prints, very familiar boot prints, one heel worn down significantly more than the other,  that had walked back and forth and around the now empty space several times. 

A horse, Vin’s horse, that black devil Peso, had been led into the alley, and hitched up.  The tracks suggested he hadn’t taken too kindly to what was being asked of him, had danced around some, but eventually he’d been hitched, and had left,  pulling the wagon.  The wagon that should be here, the wagon that was home to Vin Tanner, his biggest source of irritation and his best friend.

Pushing off from the barrel, Chris got to his feet and headed for the livery.  He was no tracker but even he should be able to follow a set of wagon tracks.  Saddling Pony in record time, he led him out of the livery and crossed the street to the saloon.  Buck sat on one of the wooden chairs, nursing a coffee.

“Chris,” he raised the cup in greeting and nodded at his old friend’s saddled horse, “takin’ a ride?”

“Buck,” Chris nodded, barely holding onto his concern driven anger, “ya happen to see anyone else ride out this morning, Vin maybe?”

“Vin?”

“Yeah,” Chris’ voice was pitched low, and dangerous, “with his wagon.”

“What?” Buck came to his feet, the chair flying back to crash into the wall, coffee slopping onto the boardwalk.  “His wagon’s gone?  Where?  When?”

“I’m guessin’ this mornin’, seein’ as he was here last night,” Chris ground out and swung into the saddle.

“Whoah, hold up, Stud.  I’ll get the boys, we’ll ride …”

Chris shook his head.  “Don’t look like anyone forced him to leave and the tracks are gonna be easy to follow.   If we’re not back by noon, you and the rest of the boys come lookin’.”

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Buck asked, genuinely puzzled, and concerned.

“I’ll be sure to ask him when I catch up with him,” Chris fumed, and wheeled Pony around.

_‘Hell, Vin’,_ Buck thought as Chris rode out of town _‘this better be good, boy.’_

The tracks were, as Chris had hoped, easy to follow but after a few miles, he didn’t need to keep checking, he had a pretty good idea where his friend, and his wagon, were headed.  Each hot, dusty mile added to his rapidly building anger and by the time he topped the rise overlooking Benson’s Creek and caught his first glimpse of his quarry, he was close to boiling point.

Catching the scent of the water, Pony started eagerly down the slope.  As Chris guided his horse down to the creek, he spotted Peso grazing happily under the trees, which was the only normal part of the scene he was looking at.  Vin’s wagon was parked close to the creek and  was surrounded by boxes, pots and pans, bedding, clothing, in fact just about all of Tanner’s meager worldly goods were stacked haphazardly on the ground.  But the tracker was nowhere to be seen.

Reining Pony to a halt, Chris’ hand rested uneasily on his gun as he looked around the deserted area.

“Mornin’, Cowboy,” Vin’s drawled greeting sounded behind him, and Chris spun around in the saddle, to find his ‘missing’ friend grinning at him in amusement.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Chris demanded, through gritted teeth.

“Spring cleanin’,” Vin announced matter of factly, and put the bucket of water he was carrying on the ground next to the wagon.

“Spring cleanin’?” Chris repeated in disbelief.

“Yep,” hefting the bucket of water into the back of the wagon, Vin climbed in after it, and the rest of his reply carried back out to Chris, “wagon gets a mite dusty what with the wind blowin’ through an’ all.  Like to keep m’home clean.”

“And you didn’t think to tell anyone that you were gonna be doin’ it today?”

“Didn’t know I was ‘til I got up,” Vin’s head popped out of the wagon, “seemed like a good day fer it.”  He disappeared again, and Chris could hear sounds of water splashing and feverish brushing.  “Iffen yer gonna stay a while,” the disembodied voice spoke again, “yer might wanna see if ya can scare us up some fish fer lunch.  There’s coffee brewin’ on the fire over yonder.”

Still sitting on his horse, Chris was losing the battle to stay mad.  In Tanner’s world, when his wagon, _his home,_ needed cleanin’ and he woke up to a good day for it, it made perfect sense to hitch up his home, move it to the creek and do his spring cleanin’.   It was nobody’s  business but his own and he saw no reason to tell anyone, and he certainly wouldn’t ask their permission.

Swinging out of the saddle, Chris shook his head and looked up at the clear blue sky.  It _was_ a good day for it.  He set to unsaddling Pony, then turned him out to graze with Peso.

Clambering out of the wagon, Vin grinned at his friend. “Fishin’ pole’s down by the creek, Cowboy.  Best catch enough fer everyone, I’m guessin’ the boys’ll be here by lunch-time.”

 

~~~


End file.
